Another Day
by ClimbingtheWalls
Summary: What happens if tomorrow never comes, and you put off telling the one person you love, just how much they mean to you?


**Title: **Another Day (original, huh?)

**Author: **Kayla

**Pairing: **One-sided Mark/Roger for a little while. Then it's…two sided (?) Mark/Roger.

**Rating: **PG-13 for some language

**Warnings: **Mentions of suicide and also a little bit of slash.

**Feedback: **Would be nice. I'm new at RENT fic, so I'm nervous.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned RENT, I would be squishing Mark and Roger together, not writing about them.

* * *

You're the sick one. You're the one who's supposed to go first. Even if the disease wasn't killing you, surely the drugs would catch up with you one day, years after you were clean, right? You don't know anymore. Suddenly the world's been turned upside down and you don't know anything anymore.

A part of you hates him. Who doesn't look both fucking ways before they cross the street in the middle of New York City? How stupid can someone be? You know he was messing with that damn camera he's always carrying around. He loves that camera more than anything in the world and you hate him for it. Maybe if it hadn't been for the camera, he would be fine, and you wouldn't be on the brink of facing the world alone.

You're pretty sure you can't face this world alone. Not that you'd be alone. There were always the rest of your friends, but without him it didn't seem to matter who you were around. Without him you were alone, even if you were in a room full of people.

How could he do this to you? Things were never supposed to be this way. You were the one who was supposed to be lying in that hospital bed, so close to death you could almost see the light and feel the warmth of the fallen ones that you loved so much, beckoning you to come to them.

You feel the presence of the rest of your family before they say a word. You expect them to comfort you, to say something, _anything_….that will make this better. You're counting on that. But all you hear are the gut-wrenching sobs, and you see the pretty brunette fall to her knees on the floor, and part of you wants to hold her, but you've never really been that close, so you leave that up to her lover, who's holding back her own tears.

You think to yourself that even after all these years, it's still a little bit weird that the lover is here, because she stole the pretty brunette from the broken blonde, fighting for his life in that bed, but yet the two total opposites had bonded over the pretty brunette's quirks, and they were closer than you ever expected them to be.

You feel the hand on your shoulder, and you desperately want to shrug it off, because unless it's the broken blonde that's touching you, you really just want to be left alone. But you don't say that to the tall man standing over you, because even if you don't want the comfort of the touch, he needs it.

His parents should be here, because no matter how long he's been with all of you, he's still their son, but somehow you forgot to call them, and now that you've remembered, you don't think you could speak to them anyways. You're positive his mother would get hysterical on the phone, and you're sure you can't handle that, because you haven't let yourself cry yet. You won't cry, because you think crying means that it's the end, and you refuse to believe that this is the end.

The warm hand on your shoulder is suddenly gone, and the tall man is making his way to the pretty brunette, and you know he wants to help her calm down. She's shaking and she refuses to believe that this is happening, and you wish just for a moment that you could be in her shoes, and you could be the one who was crying and being held. You hate the need that you have to be strong for him, but you know he'd do the same for you, and you never wanted him crying on your death bed, and you know if his time really is up, he doesn't want you crying on his, either.

You close your eyes and silently pray. You don't remember the last time you prayed, but inside you're begging the pretty girl with the red hair, the drag queen with the heart of gold, and the tiny dancer, to not take him away from you too soon, because he's all that you have left, and even though you're dying as it is, you'll die a hell of a lot faster if he's not around to remind you to take your AZT and to make you go outside every few days.

Suddenly a picture flitters through your mind of the pretty girl with the red hair in the bathtub full of pink water, and you wish for a brief second that you would have went with her, because then you wouldn't be here right now, and this wouldn't hurt so much.

The tall one is speaking to you, and you look up at him as he breaks you from your reverie, and you have no idea what he said, but you see the sad look on his face. He asks you for what must be the second time, if you've called the broken blonde's "family", and you just shake your head no, because you don't trust yourself to speak. The tall one picks up the phone, and you want to stop him, because you bitterly think that the four of you are his real family, his _only_ family, but you know that his parents do love him, and they should be here to bid their only son goodbye, and you curse yourself for being so fucking selfish. It's just that he's _yours _and if he's not going to be here tomorrow, you want every minute you have left with him, because there's so much you forgot to tell him this morning before he walked out the door. You thought you'd have another day. You should have listened to the tiny dancer when she preached to you about no day but today. You know she's shaking her head at you right now for being such an idiot. She was always doing that.

The pretty brunette and the lover are standing on both sides of the bed, grasping the broken blonde's hands, because that seems to be the only thing on his body that's not bruised or bleeding, and the tall one announces that his "family" will be there in a few hours. You hear the tall one whisper to the broken blonde, telling him to hold on just a little longer. You want to tell him to hold on forever, but he's been so strong all these years, you're not sure you could blame him if he finally just let go.

For the first time since the tiny dancer made her way towards the angels, you're itching for a hit, and you want to run out of that hospital to find The Man, but you can't leave the broken blonde, because if he slips away when you're not there, you'll never forgive yourself for not saying goodbye.

The tall one tells you that you should get some sleep, but you know that you couldn't sleep if you tried, and if your broken blonde slips away from you, you'll never sleep again. You shake your head at the tall one, and he gives an exhausted sigh, giving up without a fight. They all know that there's no point in trying to fight with you during a time like this. They found that out early on when the pretty girl with the red hair left you behind to fight your demons and your disease.

The lover asks the tall one silently if one of you should call the yuppie scum, and you feel like maybe you should vehemently deny this, but on the other hand, the yuppie scum was the one who brought the broken blonde into your life, and maybe he should have a chance to say goodbye. You know in your heart that no matter what happens, the yuppie scum will always have a place in his own cold heart for the family he left behind for the rich girl. You don't stop the tall one when he picks up the phone for the second time, because if the parents who haven't seen their son in years deserve to be there, so does the yuppie scum. You know he wouldn't come if it was you in that bed and you accepted that years ago, but you also know he'll be here this time.

The yuppie scum arrives within the hour, and he passes you right on by as he makes his way towards the bed. He asks for the details of what happened, and the tall one looks at you, but you shake your head, because you told the tall one all the details as soon as you lied to the hospital and told them you were the brother of the broken blonde when they called asking for family. You think it's best if the tall one tells the yuppie scum what happened, because you can't get through it again without crying, and you _won't _cry. Not even when you see the yuppie scum's eyes fill up with tears at the gory details of the accident.

You expect the pretty brunette to have a few choice words for the yuppie scum, and you expect her to somehow pin this on him, so you're shocked when they hug. You're even more shocked when they hold each other for an extremely long time, but in situations like this you take comfort where you can get it. You've taken comfort in the broken blonde more times than you can count, and maybe that's part of the reason you haven't leaned into a touch from the tall one, or wrapped your arms around the lover, because no one but the broken blonde has ever comforted you before, and he's the only one who could comfort you now.

The yuppie scum and the lover drag the pretty brunette away from the broken blonde, and out the door. You hear the lover mumble something about taking her to the cafeteria to try to calm her down, and a part of you wants to yell at them, because you understand why the pretty brunette is falling to pieces. You're falling to pieces too, and you wish they'd just let her stay and fall to pieces right along with you, but you know if the broken blonde can hear anything that's going on around him, he couldn't handle hearing the pretty brunette falling apart. She was always his weakness.

The tall one asks if you want anything, and you shake your head no before he shrugs his shoulders and follows the others out the door. It's just the broken blonde and you now, and you know this moment won't last long. So you take a seat on the bed, and you grasp his hand between both of yours, and you kiss his forehead. You plead with him to wake up, and you know your voice is desperate, but you can't help it, you _are _desperate. You tell him that you wrote a song for him last week, and you sing what you can from memory, because he always liked to hear you sing. When you finish, you kiss his forehead again, and suddenly it's slipping out that you love him more than you ever thought you could. The words keep coming out of your mouth, and you're telling him that you need him, that you're supposed to be the one dying, not him, that you won't survive without him. Before you know it, you're swearing that if he leaves you, you'll follow him right out, because you never want to wake up without him there to greet you.

You begin to promise that if he just opens his pretty blue eyes, you'll do whatever you can to be a better person. You know you've hurt him so many times, but you promise over and over that you'll never hurt him again, if he'd just wake up and look at you. You promise that you'll start taking care of him now, and you promise you'll love him like he's never been loved before.

The tall one is back, and his hand is on your shoulder now, and you know he probably heard nearly everything you said, but you don't even care anymore. You would go to the rooftop and scream about your love for the broken blonde to the whole world, if it meant he would just wake up and come back to you.

You slide off the bed with one last kiss to the broken blonde's cheek. You wish you would have kissed him, _really _kissed him, this morning before he walked out the door. You wanted to, more than anything, but you pushed the thought aside, and decided that it could be put off for one more day because you felt fine, and he wasn't going anywhere. He was always there.

Reality sinks in, and you realize for the first time that the broken blonde is not invincible. He never was, but in your eyes he was always a hero. He saved you from yourself more times than a person should, and that warrants him as a hero in your sometimes-naïve mind.

The others come into the room, and you take your seat across from them once again. You let the pretty brunette and the yuppie scum stand by the bedside, begging the broken blonde to come back into the world, just like you'd been doing moments ago. You know that if you couldn't reach him, they definitely won't be able to, but you hope in the back of your mind that you're wrong. If he doesn't love you, maybe he still loves the pretty brunette enough to come back to her. That thought makes you feel terribly nauseas, but you guess it doesn't really matter who gets him to come back to all of you, just as long as he comes back.

The parents he abandoned and the very pregnant sister he never really liked come rushing into the room, and immediately you feel out of place. For the first time since the broken blonde was admitted into the hospital, you let yourself be led out of the room by the tall one and the lover. You don't want to go, but his "family" deserves some time with him before he leaves them. It's just that you fear he'll die there without you by his side, and you never wanted to die without him by yours, so you feel like it's irresponsible of you to leave. But the tall one is whispering to you that it'll be okay, and you want so much to trust that he's right, so you walk down the hall behind them. Maybe he'll hold on until you're with him again.

As you're being led to the cafeteria, you remember just how much you hate hospitals. The drag queen with the heart of gold never walked out of the hospital, and neither did the tiny dancer. You know the next time you're in this place, you probably won't walk out either, but your biggest fear at the moment is that the broken blonde won't walk out of this place. You knew you always had good reason to hate hospitals. Nothing good ever came out of them. Even when you were a child, and your mother explained to you that babies are born in hospitals, you still argued that they also die in them. You always were a morbid child.

The tall one suggests that you all leave for the night and let the broken blonde's "family" have some time with their son. You look at him, and you know you're giving him your desperate, pleading look, and you speak for the first time, telling him that you can't leave. You explain that the broken blonde would never leave you, and you can't leave him. The tall one tries to argue that his "family" is there, so he wouldn't be alone, but you simply argue back that you're his_ real_ family and you won't leave his side until he's out of the hospital. The tall one opens his mouth, but quickly closes it, and you know he was about to say that the broken blonde won't make it out of the hospital, but you want him to wake up and prove everyone wrong. He loved proving people wrong.

The others leave, the yuppie scum going first, and the tall one following behind a while later. The pretty brunette and the lover are the last to go, and this time you don't refuse the hugs, because even if you're not looking for comfort in anyone but the broken blonde, the pretty brunette needs you to tell her its okay. You hug her tightly and you promise her that the broken blonde will be fine, and you believe it. You bid them goodbye, and you're alone. You try to ignore the chill that runs down your spine at the idea of being alone, and you take a seat in the waiting room in the intensive care unit of the hospital. You won't leave, even if you can't sit by his bedside all night. You hope he instinctively knows that you're here for him, even if you're not in the room. You'd really like to believe the two of you have that deep of a connection.

You fall asleep against your will, and hours later you're awoken by the broken blonde's mother. You rub the sleep from your still-tired eyes, and she asks if you've been out here all night. You nod your head and explain to her that if the situation were different, he wouldn't leave you, so you've vowed not to leave him. She gives you a small smile, and asks if she can take you down to the cafeteria to buy you a cup of coffee. You can't refuse the grieving mother, so you walk with her to the elevator. You spend the next hour telling her all the things she wants to know about the son she's missed so much the past few years, and you subtly let her know that he's your best friend, so she won't make you leave the hospital against your will. She loves you, you can tell that by the time the two of you are headed back to the broken blonde's room, and you know you don't have to worry about her keeping you from him.

The week passes in quite a blur, and you haven't been home. You eat, sleep, and shower at the hospital. The tall one brought you a change of clothes and your AZT everyday, and you thank him constantly. The disliked sister left a couple of days after she arrived to get back to her children, and the parents left yesterday when their only daughter went into labour. You promised them that if anything changed you would call. His mother made you promise that you'd take good care of him, and it was the easiest promise you've ever made. He'd always taken care of you and now it was time to return the favour.

The pretty brunette finally stopped crying a couple of days ago. Now she just sits at his bedside with his hand gripped tightly between her two smaller ones. She doesn't speak much, which is odd, because she was always a chatterbox. Seeing the broken blonde like this mellowed her out, and you always wondered what she would be like if she weren't so damn perky all the time, but now you wish you didn't know. You'd give anything if the pretty brunette would just crack a smile or attempt to sing a song for the broken blonde's camera. You just want things to go back to the way they used to be. You never could stop trying to live in the past.

The yuppie scum is quietly sitting next to the lover. You're surprised that he's showed up everyday this week. You figured he'd have better things to do than to spend time grieving with people who used to be his friends. The yuppie scum's presence makes you realize just how many hearts the broken blonde has touched in all the years he's been in the big city. You always thought you would fall apart after the drag queen with the heart of gold passed away, but the tiny dancer made sure you all stuck together, and when she was gone, the broken blonde kept you all together. You're sure if he doesn't make it out of the hospital, this is it for the family, because there won't be anyone left with the will to try to keep all of you together. It's a big responsibility, and you're sure if you all lose the broken blonde, no one will be up for the task.

You're once again shaken out of your reverie by the tall one. You were beginning to get used to that. Most days your mind never seemed to be in the room with everyone else. You wished you could blame sleep deprivation but you know that's not really the problem.

The others bid you goodbye, and you glance at the clock knowing the visiting hours for non-family members were over. The hospital still thinks you're the brother of the broken blonde, and you're not about to tell them any different. You hug your friends, and the yuppie scum gives you an awkward handshake before he follows the others out the door. You're alone again with your broken blonde, and so you sing to him. It was becoming a routine. You'd written another song for him. It was awfully depressing, but how are you supposed to write a love song when the one you love is slipping away from you?

You finish your song and begin to zone out. Your mind drifts back to what might happen if the broken blonde never wakes up. You hate letting yourself think of that, but you feel the need to be prepared. You don't think you'll make it long. You're itching for the smack already, and he's not gone yet. You know the minute he slips away you'll be on the streets searching for The Man, and when you come down from your high, you'll hate yourself because you know the broken blonde would be so disappointed in you. You've thought more than once about finding the razor that the pretty girl with the red hair used, and following in her footsteps just to reach the broken blonde when he leaves you behind.

You're deciding what to write on your goodbye note, and you're settling on something simple, like maybe just telling the others to let you go, when you hear something stir. You're hesitant to open your eyes because it's probably just a doctor, but when your green eyes open, there's a pair of blue ones, that you've been longing to see for a week, staring right back at you.

The broken blonde is reaching out a hand for you, and you don't hesitate in reaching back. You grip his hand, and you feel overwhelmed by the relief that's washing over you. You quickly reach for the call button to get the nurses and doctors in here. You want that damn tube out of the broken blonde's mouth so that you can hear the voice you've so desperately missed.

The doctor rushes in, followed by two nurses, and you're being asked to step away, but before you move you tell the broken blonde that everything will be fine. You move away, somewhat reluctantly, and you watch for the next thirty minutes as they make sure that your broken blonde is going to be alright, but you know in your heart that he'll be fine now.

You lose track of how much time has passed before you're finally alone with him. You take a place next to him on the bed, and before you know what's happening, you're sobbing, and your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and he's holding you the best that he can, promising that everything is fine now. You're incoherently telling him that you don't know what you'd do without him, and how scared you were. He tells you that he's fine now, that he's right here with you, and he holds you as tightly as he can with the casts covering the lower half of his arms. You swore you wouldn't cry unless it was the end, but knowing that he's going to be okay is enough to bring the tears of joy to your eyes, and you decide that crying doesn't have to mean it's the end.

When you've finally stopped sobbing you look into his blue eyes, and you know you have to tell him how you feel now, because you realize there might not be a tomorrow. So you take in a big breath of air, and you tell him you love him. He smiles and says he knows, and you shake your head. You tell him you don't mean it like that. You tell him that you're head over heels in love with him, and you're pretty sure you've loved him for as long as you've known him, but you've just been too blind to see it. After a few moments, he says that if all it took to get you to admit how you feel about him, was to have a near death experience, he would have gotten himself hit by a car a long time ago. You bury your face in his neck again, while you mumble to him that his joke wasn't funny at all. He apologizes, but you know he has a smile on his face. He tells you that he loves you too, and suddenly, everything in the world is right again, and you've never been more grateful for another day than you are at this very moment.


End file.
